


Unto the Sea

by Kooriicolada (WHM_Koorii)



Series: Built to Last [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gap Filler, Gen, Horror, Mass Effect 3, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5153471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WHM_Koorii/pseuds/Kooriicolada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kolyat Krios might not have saved the galaxy, but he survived the Citadel and found Commander Shepard in the wreckage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little piece that follows after the events of Hell and High Water. And, well, sort've precedes it as well. You'll see what I mean. I haven't finished writing it yet, but I felt like posting the first bit in an effort to re-inspire myself. It's not going to be a long piece--I estimate about 3 or 4 chapters.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

For a room that had once been his father's refuge, Kolyat found the _Normandy's_ arid Life Support oddly welcoming.  It contained no apparent memories of his father, only still, dry, recycled air.  The small cot was enough for him, and the shelves served as storage space for the books and artifacts Shepard had helped him recover—all that remained his his people's dying religion.  


Each night he returned to this small room after he'd taken his shift of duty in the hanger, and contemplated the stained and faded scriptures.  While he hadn't expected his life to lead him here, to tending the armory of an Alliance frigate, he found himself...content.    


Not so long ago Kolyat would have happily thrown away his life to follow in the path of his father, all anger and rage.  Now...he was not his father.  He would have been happy to leave the guns to someone else, but everyone aboard a military vessel must work.  It was a price he was happy to pay in exchange for travelling with Shepard in their slow exploration of a post-Reaper galaxy.    


In exchange, in truth, for finding the other scattered Drell and bringing them the words of their old gods when they were most needed.  


The door shushed open, and Kolyat looked up from his contemplation of a cracked manuscript.  Just inside, Garrus paused and gave him a long look from behind his visor.  Kolyat inclined his head toward him, and stood.  


"Garrus," he said, "is there something I can help you with?"  


Running a hand back over the top of his fringe, Garrus stepped further into the room.  The doors closed with a quiet rush behind him. "Just wondered if you had the time to talk. Had a few...questions."  


Kolyat set aside the manuscript and steepled his fingers before his chin, unconsciously mirroring his father's familiar pose.  "I'll answer what I can."  He nodded toward the small table across from him, and the chair set beside it.    


Clearing his throat, Garrus shifted on his feet before moving across the room to take the offered seat.  "Shepard mentioned you were the one who found her after the Crucible fired."  


Unable to stop himself, Kolyat tensed.  He hesitated, then said, "Isn't this something you'd rather discuss with her?"  


Even the tilt of Garrus' head and the way he regarded Kolyat seemed to have an edge of dry humor to it.  In any other circumstance, Kolyat may have smiled.  "I already asked her," Garrus said, tone droll.  The flanging undertone was heavier, tighter though.  Kolyat had spent enough time around Turians in C-Sec to recognize it.  "She said you knew more about it than she did."  


"Ah,"  he said, blinking slowly—one set of eyelids then the other. "She was in bad shape at the time…"  It made sense that Shepard wouldn't recollect the entirety of it. But…  


A shudder raced up Kolyat's spine, the memories coming sharp and hard.  His secondary set of eyelids closed over his eyes, leaving his vision filmy and hazy.  The words tumbled from his lips in a discordant mutter.  " _A gun discharges. The screaming starts and does not stop.  Stale air.  The stink of death.  All colors of blood like painted gore. They cry out and I can do nothing_."  


Distantly, he was aware of Garrus jerking forward and half out of his seat.  He didn't say a word until Kolyat blinked away the lingering film of the memory.  Subsiding back into the chair, Garrus looked at him for a long time. "That didn't sound like a good memory."  


"No," Kolyat said, passing his fingertips over his mouth as if he could wipe away the taste of remembered decay.  "When they moved the Citadel, we had no idea what they were doing."


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kolyat's early hours surviving on the Citadel.

Kolyat remembered the occasional earthquake on Kahje. When he was a small boy they had terrified him. His mother had held him close in those days, assuring him that the world wasn't going to shake apart. The shaking, the rattle of glassware, had been the first sign that something was  _wrong._   
  


For as long as the Citadel had existed, he knew, it had never _quaked_.  
  


And now…  
  


Though the quaking had stopped, the _something wrong_ had risen from the ducts in vicious hunting packs.  
  


Kolyat sucked in a breath of recycled air, his following exhale sounding overloud within the confines of his helmet. He hadn't worn the hardsuit since he made his initial trip to the Citadel on an aging freighter. All around him the screaming continued; the flanging pained cries of turians, the shrill terror of asari and salarians, the hollow quiet trembling of hanar, the rattle of the volus, the shouts and screams of humans.  
  


Near to his hiding place, a pack of moaning husks spilled out of the ducts and pulled down a lone turian. His pistol discharged once, the bullet ricocheting off a nearby bench before his howls were drowned out. The gun hit the ground, spinning across the blood slick flooring to rest near Kolyat's crouched form.  
  


The sound of tearing clothing filled the air, followed by the sickening sound of cracking plates. Kolyat knew that the only reason the Turian wasn't screaming in pain was because the husks were choking him.  
  


Closing his eyes tight, Kolyat steadied himself with a breath, grabbed the pistol in one hand and bolted from cover. With agonized moans, the husks lifted their head as if they had caught the scent him.  
  


_New prey._   
  


He ran, his lungs and body screaming with exertion. All around him the story replayed. There, a Banshee screeched and lovingly cradled a kicking asari. A pack of cannibals fell on a group of salarians.  
  


And there, amidst it all, the silent forms of the Keepers moved, untouched by the seething hordes. They collected the dead and dragged them into their tunnels, leaving only a trail of multi-colored blood smeared across the once pristine white floors.  
  


_Arashu, enfold us in your warm embrace. Protect those who need solace in this hour of our need._   
  


He had long lost sense of how long he had been running, ducking, and hiding. It seemed as if an age had passed since the Reaper's forces had come crawling from the ducts, grasping and hungering. Days and years since entire wards had begun to be choked of oxygen and people had killed one another as they tried to claw their way out before they suffocated.  
  


How long had it been since he had smelled anything but recycled air or the tepid stink of death through the filters in his helmet?  
  


Panting, Kolyat rounded the corner into a hallway between low income apartments. The doors hung open, a stark darkness within them. Somewhere further ahead of him, a salarian's voice rose in despair.  
  


"No, no, please no!"  
  


Kolyat ducked into the nearest room, pressing his back against the wall as the rising cries of Cannibals overwhelmed the pleading. A squelch sounded, and then the dragging of heavy footsteps moved down the hall toward him.  
  


Screwing his eyes shut, Kolyat forced his breathing to slow for fear that his ragged gasps for breath would give him away. In his hands, the pistol trembled.  
  


_Kalahira, wash away our pain in your warm tides and carry those who have fallen to a peaceful eternity._   
  


He hadn't held a gun since his father and the Commander had stopped him from assassinating the turian. The shoulders of his hardsuit grated against the wall as he slid down to rest on the floor. Still and unmoving, Kolyat waited to see if _they_ had heard the sound.  
  


What he really wanted was to rest, even if only for a little while. His head tipped forward, the helmet he wore tapping against the pistol. The only sound was the quiet rattle of his breath through his air filters. No matter how exhausted he felt, he couldn't _afford_ to rest, and Kolyat knew that. The knowledge alone did nothing to stop his body from dragging him down, and between the blink of his secondary eyelids and the primary he fell asleep.  
  


The quiet beeping of his suits warning system drove him back to wakefulness. His breath came short and harsh in his lungs, and not just from the dreams that had plagued him. The oxygen level in this ward was slowly but steadily falling. Yet another ward lost to the Reapers and their creeping harvest. His suit clicked into life-support mode as Kolyat shoved himself up and scrambled out of the abandoned apartment.  
  


He had to get out of the ward before it became an airless place crawling with nothing but nightmares.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The docks are a slaughterhouse, but there are allies to be had.

The worst of it was the docking bays. The Reapers had turned the refugee camps into a slaughter house.   
  


Kolyat tumbled through the ducts, barely fitting through in places. There was good reason that ductrats were generally _children_ , but he had no choice. The elevators either didn't work, or worse, were death traps.  
  


Holding his breath he braced his feet against a hatch on the wall of the duct and pushed until it came free. It made a loud clatter when it slapped back into place, and he froze, waiting, listening. The clammy silence echoed back to him, full of the Citadel's machinery and the distant _drip drip_ of unnameable things. Something screeched distantly, and Kolyat shivered.  
  


He unfolded himself from the cramped space, crouching down to fit the hatch securely back into place. The less obvious his passing the better. It hardly mattered that most of the creatures were hardly intelligent, the fear kept him paranoid.  
  


As soon as his suit informed him it was safe, he turned off the in-built oxygen system and let the filters breath in recycled, station air. Quietly as he could, Kolyat picked his way out of the dark corner he'd arrived in, pistol clutched close in a tight grip. The scent of death was overwhelming here. It was a sticky, thick pall that hung over the breadth of the docks. It snaked between the piles of containers where the refugees had been living. Now, those containers were their tombs.  
  


With every step, and every corner turned, a new horror revealed itself. A sprawled hand draped out of the opening of one container, red human blood pattering sluggishly to the floor beneath it. The dripping sound was the worst of all—in the quiet Kolyat could hear it everywhere. A creeping, echoing, and horrible constant.  
  


He had no idea how much blood surrounded him.  
  


The normal pale light of the nebula was gone, the filmy light of space and the Citadel arms had been replaced by an eerie red glow. It seeped in around still ship hulls and half closed defense shutters.  
  


The sudden, sharp pop-snap of the Reaper's strange, organic guns sounded followed by a flanging sound of pain and a crack of a scream. Kolyat flinched and crouched down, breath coming sharp and fast. The sound was close enough to set his hide to prickling with terror beneath his suit. Slowly, inch by inch, he crept closer to the edge of the nearby container.  
  


Around the corner was another long hallway between the refugee camps. It was shadowy and thick with slick puddles. It took a moment for his eyes to catch sight of anything, but when he did his throat went tight. A turian lay on the ground, blue blood welling up through the shattered armor of one arm. Half hidden behind him was a human girl her face contorted with terror as she clutched her protector.  
  


Another turian form stood over them, slowly crouching. It's every movement sent lines of purple-blue cybernetic glow rippling across its desiccated skin. The Marauder's head twitched and jerked, warbling sounds rising and falling from it's throat. It was both horridly turian and so very _not_ at all.  
  


The pistol slipped in his grasp as Kolyat's hands began to shake. He could leave them there. If the Reapers were focused on _them_ then he would have a better chance to escape. The pained, muffled sounds of the turian in the wards came back to him, a sickening playback in perfect memory. He glanced down the hall to his left, toward the faint glow of the open docks, paralyzed with uncertainty and trying not to gag.  
  


A heartbeat later Kolyat discarded the idea and breathed in a harsh gasp. His father rose into his mind unbidden; a man who'd done a lot of bad and just wanted to do things _right_. He didn't want to hear the squelch and crack of plates being torn from hide again.  
  


Kolyat bowed his head and let it rest against the pistol. Quietly, so quietly, he whispered, "Amonkira keep my hands steady, my sight true, and the fire of my courage banked."  
  


Through the dripping silence he heard the turian say, "Run for it. I'll keep it busy as long as I can." The words were followed by a soft, terrified sob, and Kolyat took his chance.  
  


Bolting upright, he stepped around the corner. Kolyat brought the pistol up, lined up his shot, and squeezed the trigger. The Marauder's head exploded like an overripe melon and the girl screamed as black blood spattered across her pale face and yellow hair.  
  


For several long seconds, Kolyat stared at the two over the Marauder's slumped corpse. He took a step forward, hands still raised and pistol hot in his grasp.  
  


"Thanks," the turian wheezed, "Do yo—" The words were drowned out as a moan sounded nearby. A heavy slap—like feet hitting the ground—echoed closer still and the turian hissed out a curse.  
  


Without giving himself time to think, Kolyat hurried forward. "Help me get him up. We need to get somewhere safe." He reached out and grabbed the turian's uninjured arm. The girl grabbed his side and helped haul him, staggering, to his feet. Kolyat ducked under his arm and wrapped one of his around his waist to keep him upright. On the turian's other side, the girl mimicked him.  
  


"There's a—ah, _shit_ —there's a safe room," the turian said, words thick and flanging heavily with pain, "at the security check. If we can make it there we should—should be alright for awhile."  
  


Their pace was horridly slow and awkward, but punishingly brutal on the turian. Kolyat could hear his pained gasps as each step rattled his wrecked arm. The human remained utterly silent. That worried Kolyat more than anything. He knew next to nothing about humans despite his short tenure helping out at C-Sec. What if she was injured and he had no idea?  
  


"That way," the turian rasped, jerking his lolling head to the left. Behind them, Kolyat heard the slap of steps stop, the roaring rumble of a Cannibal and then...the all too familiar sound of tearing flesh as it began to gorge itself on the Marauder he'd killed. Bile rose in his throat, thick and sour.  
  


Ahead of them a pack of husks staggered out of a container, heralded by a soft gasp from the girl.  
  


_Amonkira—_   
  


Kolyat raised the pistol in one hand and pulled the trigger. The kick felt like it would shatter his arm. His first shot went wide, pinging off the steel wall, while the second impacted the lead husk in the chest. It staggered, moaning in confusion.  
  


_Please. Dad..._   
  


Another shot, it's head popped and spewed coagulated black blood. He kept squeezing the trigger until the pistol whined a loud warning, burning hot even through his gloves. In a surprising burst of strength, the turian lunged forward and away from them and slammed his wrecked side into the last husk coming for them. It smashed into the container, pinned between the turian and the metal. As it clawed and scrabbled at the turian's armor, he brought up his good arm, omni-blade glowing hot, and sunk it into it's head. As soon as it gurgled it's last, the turian staggered back, gasping and swaying on his feet.  
  


Kolyat darted forward to grab hold of him before he fell. His facial plates were stained with black viscera, mandibles slack and hanging wide. "Can you make it?" he asked, tucking himself into his side again. The turian's weight seemed to rest entirely on him, heavy and dragging.  
  


"I can try like hell," he growled, then turned to check on the girl beside him. "You okay, kid?"  
  


"Fine," she said, barely more than a whisper. "Are you…?"  
  


The turian choked on a laugh as Kolyat helped him take another few stunted steps. "Just like a day back in basic," he said. "You slack off and they run you hard." At least it drew a ghost of a smile from the girl.  
  


It felt like it took an eternity to reach the security checkpoint. The red glow of the citadel gleamed off the countless glossy images at the nearby memorial wall. A dozen bodies lay beneath it, draped over chairs and half turned. They'd never had a chance to escape.  
  


Kolyat swung over the checkpoint's counter first, ignoring the dead man half dragged over it and the corpses on the other side. Reaching back, he helped the girl clamber over. The turian braced himself with his good arm and hopped up to sit on it before swinging his legs across. He landed on the other side with a grunt of effort, and staggered into the shadowy interior of the room, one hand on the wall to keep himself steady.  
  


"Back here," he said, "I'm going to try and get a hold of C-Sec headquarters, see if anyone survived up there."  
  


The girl scuttled after him, Kolyat bringing up the rear, and as soon as they were all inside the room the turian input a code to override the door controls and lock it closed. Kolyat headed for a line of shelves while the turian stumbled toward the faint glow of the terminals at the back wall. He rifled through the contents, pulling down a box of thermal clips and a first aid kit. There was another pistol there, and an assault rifle. He grabbed the lot and dragged them into the center of the room.  
  


At the terminal, the turian swore faintly at his slow typing—three fingers and down one hand. Kolyat cracked open the first aid kit and dug through it until he found a packet marked with a dextro emblem. Standing he stepped over and offered it to the turian, who muttered his thanks. He slumped back in his chair, and took the packet. With surprising efficiency he slipped it into one of his armor's medigel slots, and a second later his omnitool flared.  
  


Turning away again, Kolyat crouched near the rest of his find. Across the room, the girl had perched herself on another table, knees pulled up. He paused then, watching her. She was rocking back and forth, sobs muffled against the coarse material of her pants.  
  


Swallowing the sick feeling in his throat, Kolyat grabbed a ration packet out of the kit and walked over toward her. "Here," he said. "It might not sound like it but eating something will help."  
  


She looked up at him with glassy eyes and uncertainty, but reached out to take the ration pack from him with a trembling hand. "Thanks," she whispered. She made no other move. Kolyat hadn't really expected her to.  
  


Reaching up, he fumbled for the clasps of his helmet and lifted it away. The girl jerked, startled, and stared at him wide-eyed. At least the scared and sad look had been momentarily replaced with curiosity. "Kolyat Krios," he offered, holding his hand out to her as he'd seen other humans do.  
  


She took his hand carefully. "You're a drell right?" Kolyat made an affirmative noise. "I've never seen a drell before— Oh, uhm...I'm Lily, and he's Avus." She pointed toward the turian.  
  


"This is Officer Natanus," Avus growled into the terminal. "Respond headquarters. I repeat, this is Officer Avus Natanus, please respond."  
  


Kolyat glanced over at him for a moment, then looked back to Lily. "Were you hurt?"  
  


She shook her head, hunching back over her legs. "Avus kept me safe."  
  


Letting out a breath, Kolyat leaned back against the table beside her and let the sound of Avus' voice fill the silence and the room. At least it didn't stink like blood and sound like dripping here. The faint crackle of plastic sounded as Lily tore open the ration pack and began picking at the contents. It smelled fruity, like the garden his mother had tended back on Kahje. Silently, she offered it to him, and Kolyat gratefully fished out slice of freeze dried fruit.  
  


A crack of static jolted through the comm across the room, and Kolyat jerked his head up.  
  


_"This is Bailey,"_ a familiar voice said, wrought with interference though it was. _"We read you, Natanus. What's your status?"_  
  


"Myself and two civilians are trapped in the security check down in the docks—E24. I'm injured. A Marauder wrecked my arm—"  
  


_"How bad is it?"_   
  


"I've got some medi-gel now, but…"  
  


Stepping closer, Kolyat leaned forward enough to be heard and said, "He's lost a lot of blood, Commander."  
  


A long silence followed, full of nothing but the crackle of comm-static. _"Huh,"_ Bailey said at last. _"I'll be damned. Good to hear from you, Kolyat."_  
  


"You as well, Commander Bailey."  
  


_"Shoulda known you'd be a tough nut to crack, just like your father was,"_ Bailey said, then trailed off. _"Look, here's the situation. There's no way we can get down there and extract you. Everything has gone to hell everywhere—"_ he broke off, briefly muttering about Shepard and evacuation plans, and when would they learn to listen to the woman, _"—Anyway, see if you can't get up onto the Presidium and make for Huerta Memorial. I know they've had that place locked down harder than a volus' bank account since this started. I'm working on getting the Council there now."_  
  


"Understood, sir," Avus said, slumping back into his seat.  
  


_"Good luck out there you two. Bailey out."_   
  


The comm cut and went quiet. Avus ran his good hand over his neck wearily and looked up at Kolyat. "Huh," he said, eyeing him up and down. "So you're the kid I've heard about. On parole for pulling something stupid, weren't you?"  
  


Kolyat stared back at him for a long moment and stepped back. He clasped his hands at the small of his back, head bowing in acknowledgement. "I was."  
  


Avus let it go at that, and hauled himself back to his feet. He was walking steadier, even if it was still an awkward affair. His ruined arm hung limp at his side, useless. Reaching down, Avus grabbed the assault rifle and tossed it at Kolyat. "Think you can handle one of these?"  
  


Deliberately, Kolyat weighed the gun in his hands. It was light-weight, but still felt awkward in his grasp. It was nothing like the pistol, and he knew the kick would be worse. There was no way Avus or Lily could manage it. "I can try," he said, determined.  
  


"Good kid," Avus grunted, grabbing the extra pistol off the floor. He jerked his head at Lily, beckoning. "Come here."  
  


She slid off the table and walked toward him, looking scared and tired but not of Avus. Once she was in arm's reach, Avus put the pistol in her hands, and clasped his over hers to make her adjust her grip. "Oh no. No no no, I can't—" she squeaked, voice trembling.  
  


Ignoring her protests, Avus stepped behind her and nudged her feet wider apart. "You need a good stance," he said, voice gruff and soothing, "and don't tense too much. I'll teach you properly once we're out of this mess. For now, just point it at anything that wants to kill you and shoot until it's dead."  
  


Lily went pale, the gun shaking in her gasp, but to her credit she kept it pointed like he'd directed her. Avus let his hand rest her on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze before he stepped away to grab the pistol Kolyat had brought with him.  
  


Something thumped against the door, and Kolyat cringed. Beside him, Lily startled barely swallowing a scream.  
  


"Guess that's our cue," Avus said, eyeing the pistol speculatively. "Grab the spare clips, and stay behind me." Grim faced, he headed for the door. Kolyat grabbed his helmet and jammed it in place before he followed, the assault rifle clutched in his clammy grasp.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Avus and Lily are based off of the NPCs in ME3 that appear in the Holding Area after Cerberus' attack on the Citadel. I always thought it was really adorable how that tuian C-sec officer was looking out for this human girl who couldn't be more than 14 or 15 years old. So, I wanted to give a bit more story to them here.


	4. IV

The Presidium was no different from the lower wards. Slouching Reaper beasts prowled among the once pristine storefronts while Keepers picked through the dead. The plants were a ragged mess with the occasional corpse draped between them like a discarded toy.   
  


Worst of all, however, was when Kolyat looked up. Normally, the Presidium was bright, the artificial sky forever blue with a few, thick clouds rolling across it. Now he had the uneasy privilege of staring up at the other arms of the Citadel, closed tight. A gloomy red light washed everything sickeningly, and vertigo slammed into his stomach so hard it made him gasp.  
  


Behind him, Lily made a small, scared sound. Kolyat heard the rustle of Avus' armor as he moved to rest a hand on her shoulder. "Don't look up," Avus said quietly, "keep your eyes on the ground and the enemies."  
  


In Kolyat's mind, it was easier said than done. His eyes kept drifting up and to the side. He imagined the countless lives across the Citadel—the screaming and dying and the stink of expelled bowels and blood.  
  


Swallowing, he said, "There's still atmosphere. They haven't choked this part of the Presidium yet."  
  


Avus made a low noise that Kolyat couldn't hope to understand but made sense of anyway. It was sickening to think of the hundreds, thousands, _billions_ of people who were dying all around them right now.  
  


The three of them picked their way past shattered glass and sparking store terminals. A pack of roaming cannibals had them skirting quickly down a set of stairs to avoid detection. "If we hurry, we can make it back up behind them and make a run for the stairs up to the next level," Avus said, words tense with wariness.  
  


Kolyat watched him from the corner of one eye, hands awkwardly grasping the assault rifle. Something creaked, then snapped with a sharp retort and Lily _screamed._ Kolyat jerked his head up as a massive Brute dropped down to land with a shatter- _crunch_ on their level. It roared, split faced and massive. Terror thrilled through him and into his throat, choked him and froze him.  
  


"Get _down_ ," Avus barked. Behind them the cannibals dropped down the stairs, their arm-cannons glowing a sickly blue white.  
  


The next thing Kolyat knew he was hitting the ground behind an open air display case filled with slim boxes. Model ships, wrapped clothing, action figures and collectibles showered down on him. He lay there stunned, thinking _this is it_. Everything seemed to move so quickly after that.  
  


The sick pop of organic and mechanic guns fired, sending an array of ricochet off every surface as the Cannibals advanced. Under the roar of the Brute, the more familiar crack of a pistol sounded. Across from him, Kolyat could see Avus crouched behind a bench. It was poor protection at best, but he had Lily behind him. She stared over at him, pale and terrified, one hand pressed over her mouth. In the other, she still clutched the pistol.  
  


It was that that drove the air back into Kolyat's lungs. He tightened his grip on the assault rifle, jamming the butt into his shoulder and rolled up onto his knees. The rifle spat a stream of bullets; it felt like it was going to jar his arms from their sockets. Under the assault, the Brute ducked down behind the protection of it's massive arm. The sound of ricochet and metal on metal filled the air beneath the thunder of the rifle.  
  


Kolyat ducked back behind the store's counter, fumbling for one of the spare clips as the rifle whined. He dropped it from his shaking hands when the Brute roared and he went scrambling to catch it. The thunder of approach drowned out the sporadic hiss of his own breath. Behind him, the Brute collided with the storefront, sending pieces of it showering around him. The clip rolled further away, knocked out of reach as the Brute bore down on him.  
  


His breath was driven out of him as he found himself batted aside, into a wall. The back of his head cracked against it, saved only by the helmet he wore. Dizzily, Kolyat put one hand on the ground to try and push himself up. His head lolled forward, his second set of eyelids blinking several times to try and regain focus. Above him, the Brute loomed, swimming drunkenly.  
  


A sudden shout broke through the ringing in his ears. It wasn't a voice he recognized.  
  


"Hey, you! Leave the kid alone!" The sharp retort of a pistol followed the barking female voice. Her shot bounced off the Brute's head and pinged into the tiles. Kolyat slumped, the ground vibrating as the Brute moved closer and reached for him.  
  


He wondered, vaguely, if this really _was_ it. He'd never get to see Kahje again, or lay his Father's ashes to rest on his Mother's grave.  
  


Then there came a familia and welcome sound: the sound of blooming biotic power. The blue glow of it cut across his vision, searing his aching eyes. Above him, the Brute's upraised arm was dragged back, hauling the thing off balance long enough for a turian in civilian clothes to step between it and Kolyat. The turian jammed the barrel of a heavy shotgun up under the Brute's head and fired. Viscera and bits of tech showered everywhere as the Brute toppled backward. The ground shook as it landed, vibrating up Kolyat's burning arms and making him tremble.  
  


"Ereba, check on the girl," the same voice from before barked out, drawing closer. "He alright Oraka?"  
  


The turian—Oraka—above him gave a vibrating hum as Kolyat struggled to push himself upright. He leaned down and wrapped a strong hand around Kolyat's upper arm. "On you feet," he grunted. Kolyat looked up at him, his head still swimming, and let himself be hauled up. Oraka leaned in close, eyeing Kolyat despite the helmet in the way. "He might have a concussion." His voice swam disconcertingly inside of his head.  
  


Squeezing his eyes closed, Kolyat grunted agreement. With how surreal everything felt, he wouldn't be surprised if he _did_ have a concussion. It felt as if, any moment, he'd blink and wake up from an all too real nightmare.  
  


Nearby, an asari snorted. She leaned down to pick up the assault rifle he'd dropped in the fight. "You've got a quad, I'll give you that." Ah, that was the voice—it was thick and almost gravelly. Age, he supposed. It reminded him a bit of his father's in his last days as his lungs deteriorated. She looked over the rifle then turned a frank look Kolyat's way. "I'll trade you this pistol for the rifle. I always liked big guns better anyway."  
  


"Take it," Kolyat said, his own voice sounding odd in his ears. "I think I'll stick with pistols." If anything at all, but he didn't say that. He was half convinced he'd shattered his arms wielding it.  
  


"Aethyta," a quiet voice said, and Kolyat tracked the sound past the asari. Another asari stood behind her, clutching a small bundle protectively to her chest. Kolyat caught a glimpse of a tiny, blue fist. "We should keep moving."  
  


To his relief, Kolyat found Avus and Lily flanking her. There were more people there as well, picking their way past the corpses of the Cannibals. Another grim faced turian and a salarian unloaded a shot into each one's head as they went. They wouldn't get up again.  
  


"General," Avus said, lifting his good arm in a tired salute to Oraka. "Good to see you alive."  
  


Oraka grunted, returning the salute with a nod. "Some manner of it."  
  


Kolyat reached out to take the pistol Aethyta offered him, feeling weary straight through to his bones. The worst of it was that he knew they couldn't stop, couldn't rest. The short breath he'd caught in the security check down in the docks felt like it had happened years ago. His life before this felt like a dream.  
  


Avus adjusted his stance, looking over their rag-tag group, and Kolyat followed his gaze. There were maybe ten of them all told. Clearing his throat, Avus jerked his head toward the stairs. "I managed to contact Bailey. Word is that Huerta is locked down and safe right now."  
  


"Then we should head there," the asari—Ereba said. Her mouth was set, mulish and fierce as she clutched her child closer. "If there's a chance it's safe—"  
  


A strange, almost audible _thrum_ rumbled through the ground beneath Kolyat's feet and vibrated into the air. He sucked in a breath, attention dragged away from the conversation. Slowly, he tilted his head back, looking up at the red gloaming of the closed Citadel. Cracks appeared in the seams between each arm, limned in light.  
  


He made a startled sound, drawing attention from the others around him as the Citadel began to open, blossoming like a flower. The startled taste of hope seared across his tongue, replacing the sour bile of death and terror. Below them, he could see the curved, blue edge of a planet struck through with burning fires and the dark edges of smoke overtaking the atmosphere.  
  


Then Aethyta swore and the hope was suffocated by renewed fear.  
  


The wider the gap between the arms, the more he could _see_. Cannon fire laced through the dark between stars where soundless explosions lit like supernovas. The massive, hulking form of Reapers rent the darkness with the electric red of their gaze, searing through the hulls of allied ships.  
  


Amid it all, a small fleet towed some strange object in between the opening arms of the Citadel. Almost gently, it came to rest perched on the Citadel Tower. It reminded Kolyat eerily of news footage he'd seen of the so-called Geth attack three years ago.  
  


The ships peeled off, darting away between the wide spread arms of the Citadel and back into the fight happening beyond.  
  


"We need to go. Now," Aethyta snapped, shoving at Ereba with one hand. The sound of her voice startled Kolyat and the others out of their stupor. "I don't know about you but I don't want to stick around and find out what that thing does. Get your asses moving."  
  


Kolyat turned, forcing himself to jog after the rest of them. His entire body felt like one, large hurt but he refused to let it stop him. If Avus could keep going, if Lily and the rest could… He'd do it to. He'd fight to survive this to the last.  
  


Then the howling started renewed. The sound of the Reaper's creatures rose up around them, insane and angry and so fierce it chilled his blood through and through. He heard the first sounds of combat ahead of him just as the ground _shook_.  
  


Kolyat threw his arms out, trying to regain his balance. Another tremor ran along the ground and that _thrum_ of power vibrated up through his bones again. This time, it didn't dissipate. It grew and grew until he had to clench his teeth to keep them from rattling. He could hear yelling around him, sounds of terror and combat and screeching Banshees, but the _hum_ built up and up until it nearly drowned it out.  
  


He clamped his hands to the side of his helmet, staggering as the Citadel quaked around him. It was futile, but a part of him still hoped he could dampen the noise and stop the shaking if he gripped hard enough.  
  


Then the sky lit like fire and devastation and he was thrown off his feet, skidding across the tiles and into a guardrail. His breath coughed out of his lungs, and he looked up to meet Lily's startled gaze. Only, she wasn't looking at _him_ , but behind him. Grabbing the rail, Kolyat twisted himself around and gaped.  
  


Some sort of red light was pouring out of the Citadel, starting at the object on the tower. It burned into his eyes, searing at his retinas until every blink had it's afterglow zig-zagging across his eyelids.  
  


There was another thunderous rumble beneath his feet. The Citadel shrieked with the sound of straining metal as searing red lines ran jagged trails along the arms, sparking and hissing. Then, somewhere, something gave way and Kolyat yelled in surprise as the ground beneath him slanted sharply.  
  


Someone shouted and the noise continued to rise. Pushing himself off the rail, Kolyat threw himself forward, scrabbling to get back to the others.  
  


With a tremendous groan and creak a support gave way above him, crumpling to land nearby. Sparks and pieces of metal showered around him as he staggered. He threw a hand up before his head, and when he looked again he couldn't see _anyone_.  
  


With a tearing sound, the tiles beneath his feet cracked open and split. Kolyat slid, and grabbed for the growing fissure—anything to hold on to. Above him, beyond the splintering wreckage, someone shrieked his name.  
  


He hung there as the entire Presidium seemed to tilt dangerously inward, dangling him above a heart-stopping drop. In that moment, he imagined he could see the entirety of the Citadel spread out below him. He stared, wide eyed with terror and his breath stopped in his lungs. His gauntlet grated against the shredded handhold he had, starting to slip.  
  


Then the ground bucked, and Kolyat's heart seemed to stop as he was flung out into empty space.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a rough chapter to write for me, and while I don't hate it I'm also not 100% satisfied. But, I think it presents what I wanted over all, so I'm content. Kolyat's definitely a hard PoV character to write, since he misses a lot of things a more seasoned character like Garrus catches.


	5. V

Kolyat came to in a scattered pile of rubble. No matter how much he blinked his vision still swam. Every movement of his head seemed to send his stomach lurching up into his throat. Heedless of everything around him he clawed his helmet off. He couldn't think straight through the fog that seemed to muffle him, his mind blanked and his movements sluggish. The helmet clattered to the ground just in time. His stomach rolled over and he began to gag, then vomited into the dust and dirt. The more he heaved the more his body screamed in agony, until every part of him seemed bruised through to the bone.  
  


Nearby bits of detritus rattled against one another as they shifted and fell, tumbling down the pile. The sound stuck with him in spite of the wet noise of his own retching. A strange, ticking clatter in the odd silence. Somewhere in his hazy thoughts he knew that the Citadel shouldn't be _this_ quiet.  
  


When he finally caught his breath again, Kolyat pitched forward onto the ground near the pool of his own sick. Between one blink and the next he drifted into darkness again.  
 

An interminable time later he struggled into back into consciousness and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Crawling forward, he grabbed at chunks of building and broken bits of metal. It seemed an impossible task to pull himself to his feet, and when he finally did the vertigo hit him hard.  
  


He swayed, nearly falling back to his knees as the ground seemed to heave beneath him. Kolyat staggered into the side of a partially crushed skycar and leaned against it. He pressed his head into the crook of his arm and just _breathed_. Standing there with the blackness of his eyelids, it hit him how lucky he was to be _alive_ right now. He found himself choked on a sob that he couldn't swallow back, his face twisting into a grimace.  
  


He had no idea where he was, or how far he'd fallen. The last thing he remembered was the feeling of falling and the brief burst of pain in the side of his head. That ache still throbbed, bruised and sickly. In hindsight, he knew he was lucky his skull hadn't been shattered.  
  


Like a puppet with its strings cut, Kolyat forced himself to turn around. His back pressed against the ruined skycar, and he let his head loll back. His skin crawled at the sight that met him. The arms of the Citadel were cracked and shattered in places and there was debris floating between them in the vacuum of space. Beyond that, the hulk of dark ships were silhouetted against the distant stars. From here, and with his vision still shaky he couldn't tell if they were Reapers or allied forces.  
  


Panic lit beneath his ribs and gave him the strength to shove away from the car. He staggered out onto what had, at one time, been pristine walkways. With each step the devastation further unfolded around him, stealing his breath from his lungs. If the Citadel had been reduced to a horrific nightmare before, now it felt as if the nightmare had burned to ash and smoke. There wasn't a piece of it that looked untouched, unscathed. This was a new and creeping sort of horror, unlike the constant terror of before.  
  


This was the sort of devastation he'd only felt as echoed, sympathetic pangs when a new disaster had been reported on the news. Hazily, he felt a jolt of guilt for himself back then. He had no way of know his _sympathy_ could never touch on what he felt now, on what those unknown people had felt.  
  


There was no describing this, no words to encompass it.  
  


No matter how hard he tried to focus, he found his mind wandering and skipping. His thoughts ran blank, detached, his body on auto-pilot. He wondered, vaguely, if this was how it felt to slowly let his soul take control. A part of him wanted it; anything to be free of the hell around him.  
  


Several times he tripped, hit the ground on his knees, and had to pull himself back up. Kolyat had no idea how long he wandered, how far he'd walked. Nothing looked familiar to him, even after all the time he'd spent on the Citadel. He could be in Silversun, or Zakera, or Tayseri for all he knew. Everything had become a gray mass, even the dust laden air he breathed. There was no Citadel Tower to mark the skyline, no clean walkways and delineated by well-kept plants. He could no more find his way to the embassies than he could a store.  
  


Once more he stumbled, the Citadel's artificial gravity grabbing him and yanking him down. He didn't even bother to throw a hand out to try and catch himself. For a long time he lay there, staring at the bits of broken glass glittering nearby. It occurred to him that he could stay there, sleep maybe. He deserved a rest, surely?  
  


He was tempted, so very tempted, but there was a sound at the edge of his hearing. It cut into his weariness every time he began to drift and drew him back to awareness. In the dead silence that it was overloud. He was certain that even a gunshot would be quieter. With a groan, Kolyat shoved himself up onto his hands and knees. He crawled toward the noise; a steady rasping noise. With each shuffle movement it seemed to come further and further apart.  
  


Breathing, he suddenly realized. He was hearing _breathing_.  
  


Kolyat threw himself to his feet and into a stumbling run. He rounded a massive piece of curved metal to be greeted by another pile of debris. There, half buried in it, was a splash of color: black, a silver-white shine, red blood and human flesh.  
  


He staggered over, disbelief lining his every inhale. Kolyat dropped heavily to his knees and reached out. He began to pull away bits of rock and metal, cautious and uncertain. The last thing he wanted was to bring more ubble down on whoever was trapped here.  
  


Then it hit him was the stench of burned flesh and seared plastic. He gagged on it and reared away. Never before had he smelt something so _awful_. It burned his throat and made him choke and gag on saliva thick with dust. His lungs ached and his chest burned in a way that sent a zing of panic running up his spine. Would this be enough to have him following in his father's footsteps? Logically, he knew that Kepral's syndrome came from Kahje's humid atmosphere, but…  
  


Wide-eyed and coughing, Kolyat forced himself to return to the task at hand. Breathing through his mouth, he slowly uncovered the human's torso, shoulders. He sucked in a surprised gasp as he pulled away a bit of detritus sticky with blood, and clung to by strands of hair.  
  


"Commander Shepard," he rasped. He hadn't seen her since his father's wake in Silversun. She'd looked worn through at the time: thin, tired, and surprisingly small surrounded by her crew. It had stuck in his mind, so at odds with the woman who'd stormed into an apartment and pistol whipped him to keep him from murdering a man.  
  


Here and now, she was a ruin of herself. Her eyes stared unseeingly, face blood caked and blistered. Blood sluggishly ran from her nose, the corners of her mouth and a hundred other tiny lacerations.  
  


Leaning forward, he placed his ear near her mouth, waiting to hear that gusty rattle of breath from before.  
  


Counting his heartbeats, he waited. One… two… three…  
  


Nothing, nothing, nothing.  
  


Swallowing down a pained sound, Kolyat rocked back and dropped his head into his hands, trembling. The woman who'd saved his life, been a friend to his father, took time to read the old prayers… He'd found her and her could do _nothing_ for her.  
  


The useless gravity of the situation sucked the air out of him more effectively than the vacuum of space ever could.  
  


At least he could give her a proper send off. Perhaps her soul would know that, in the end, she was not _alone_. He could carry that message with him until he could tell someone else, the people waiting for her. Once more he recalled her crew, surrounding her in that large apartment in Silversun. The turian had regarded her with a tender fondness Kolyat had seen playing out a hundred times over in a million faces all across the Citadel. The camaraderie she shared with them all, from asari to krogan and even the synthetic, and even the warm regard she'd had for his ailing father… Each ally she had had told a story in and of itself about the woman lying still before him now.  
  


Choking on thick saliva and a tight throat, Kolyat reached out. The prayers to see her across the warm, forgiving tides were heavy on his tongue. He hoped that she would find some comfort in joining his mother and father there, as well as her own lost companions. She would arrive as one of Arashu's _siha,_ he thought, ready to rest after her great battle.  
  


His fingertips touched over her staring eyes, but before he could close them her hand snapped out and grasped his wrist. A familiar pain lanced through his tongue as he bit it to stifle his startled scream. The days of hiding from the Reaper creatures had conditioned him well.  
  


Her vice like grip ground his bones together, and she bared her teeth in a bloody grimace as she gasped in a lungful of air. "Not yet, Krios," she snapped, all sharp command even half buried in the rubble. By the glassy, faraway look in her eyes, Kolyat wasn't certain she was speaking to _him._  
  


"Commander?" he asked, voice thick with fear and hope and a million other things.  
  


She focused on him, her attention hitting him like a landslide. Her eyes were bloodshot, more red than white like a human's ought to be, unfocused and searching. Undeniably wild and relentless in their pursuit of whatever enemy she still sought. "Get me up," she ground out.  
  


"You shouldn't—" he started, but was cut off as she began to force her torso forward.  
  


"Don't argue with me," she barked, her voice all glass and nails. He should, he knew, do just that. It was obvious that she was injured badly. Even he could tell that much with his limited knowledge of humans, and yet...  
  


"Alright," he said, voice thin and reedy to his own ears. "Alright, hold still." With stuttering movements he began digging at the rubble around her hips and legs until he could get an arm around her waist. She grabbed hold of him with a steel grasp, and Kolyat hauled her back and out of the rubble. The sound she made was sheer agony. It wasn't quite a scream, or a yell, but something animal. It was primal, feral, and bone deep.  
  


Her jaw muscles twitched, her teeth clenched tight. He could hear them grinding together audibly. "Come on," she hissed, and to his shock, horror, amazement, she began pushing herself up. Kolyat grabbed hold of her, surging to his feet with her and as soon as they stood up she let out another agonized sound.  
  


His legs buckled under her dead weight as she slumped against him. He staggered, then went down. Pain ratcheted up from his knees and along his spine, forcing a gasp out of him.  
  


Shepard's face contorted into a snarl, another agonized sound catching in her throat. Somehow, he'd never know how, she bit it back and began to struggle to rise again. Kolyat went with her, pushing them both to their feet and into their first staggering steps. The sound she made as she forced her legs to her will was a roar that would do any krogan proud.  
  


All he could smell was her burned skin and blood, the stink of her hardsuit melted into her flesh alongside the crisped scent of her singed hair. Every wet gasp for air, and every guttural sound of pain tore through him with terror. Every time they stumbled, she'd push them back to their feet and he let her.  
  


He took comfort in the fact that she didn't seem to be bleeding too actively. There were no fresh spatters as they stumbled, no patter of falling droplets. That didn't whisk away his fear that she was drowning in her own blood, however. It was a fear that worsened when they staggered and she snarled her agony as her wrecked arm was jostled. She coughed wetly, more flecks of blood and saliva coloring the window of the skycar they'd stumbled into.  
  


Still, no matter his attempts, no matter how often they were dragged down, she refused to stop. Her sharp and brittle words seemed to etch themselves into his bones, perfunctory as they were. He drew strength from her even as she leaned on him for support.  
  


Commander Shepard's indefatigable drive and determination rekindled his own. One way or another, they would find aid and get out of this alive.  
  


If she could do this as battered and broken as she was, then so could he.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to wrap this up! It'll be up soon, I promise.


	6. VI

"Eventually, Bailey found us," Kolyat said.  
  


During his recounting, the two of them had moved from Life Support and into the Port Observation Lounge. Garrus sat beside him at the bar, one hand clenched around a bottle of vibrant liquor. Kolyat tipped his own glass, watching the fluid inside slosh. "And then we...waited." For days and days they had waited, slowly piling up containers with corpses and names along the rows of the wards and presidium. It had been a nightmare. "Eventually, rescue teams came to the Citadel."  
  


It was nice to have the alcohol haze dulling the memories. Some days he couldn't get the stink of corpses out of his nose, or the taste of grief and desolation off his tongue. The temptation to drown himself in liquor day in and day out was strong, but he staid himself in thoughts of the goddesses his father took such strength in.  
  


Kolyat shook his head slowly, and looked up to meet Garrus' gaze. "It was luck, or fate, that I found her. Not the heroics she makes it out to be."  
  


Garrus considered him, his stare weighty with a gravity not unlike Commander Shepard's. Just like with the Commander, Kolyat felt himself straight his spine and squaring his shoulders under that regard. At length, Garrus said, "Sounds to me like you were pretty heroic. Not everyone can hold up under pressure the way you did."  
  


Kolyat ducked his head, staring at his hands where they wrapped around his glass. "Ah, I don't know if I held up. I was...terrified the entire time."  
  


"Mmm, you acted when it counted." Garrus clapped a hand on Kolyat's shoulder. "That's what counts." That flanging voice took on an ironic lilt, as he went on, "Between you and me, I was...pretty terrified myself."  
  


Somehow, it didn't seem like sympathy, or an attempt to make him feel _better_ , just cold truth.  
  


Instead of answering, Kolyat took a drink in an attempt to clear the cloying taste of memory off his tongue. It was hard to think of what he did as _heroic_ when he just tried to keep himself alive. The squelch and tear of turian plates being ripped away amidst screams and pleas for help haunted his sleeping and waking moments more often than not. He wondered, privately, how his father had lived with the memories prickling at the back of his mind his entire life.  
  


"Hey," Garrus said, tone solemn and oddly flat. Kolyat looked up to him as Garrus set his bottle down. It clinked loudly against the surface of the bar, oddly poignant. Turning to face him, Garrus regarded him fully, a weight that hit him in the chest like a blank round fired at close range. "I know it doesn't sound possible right now, but don't let the ghosts get to you. You did everything you could, and the people who died weren't your fault."  
  


Hunching his shoulders, Kolyat tried to tear his gaze away from Garrus but found he couldn't. He was trapped by the echoes of those same ghosts lingering in the lines of his scarred face, and the set of his shoulders. Garrus stood and took a step toward him, his hand falling to rest heavily on Kolyat's shoulder.  
  


"For what it's worth...Thane would be proud of you."  
  


Throat tight, Kolyat dipped his head in acknowledgement, unable to choke out a reply. Garrus seemed to understand, though and gave his shoulder a pat before clearing his throat awkwardly and stepping away.  
  


"Anyway," Garrus said, shifting on his feet for a moment. "You know where to find us. You know...in case you wanted shooting lessons or a drinking buddy…"  
  


Kolyat smiled faintly, able to read the offer for what it was. That Garrus, and the rest of the crew were here for him and _understood_. It was moments like these that reminded him just how _real_ the galaxy's greatest heroes were. These people weren't untouchable heroes who didn't grieve and mourn and look at the a galaxy that was a few billion people short and not flinch.  
  


It reminded him that in the end...he wasn't at fault, and that he could go on living, ghosts and all. Garrus gave him another searching look, and must have agreed with what he saw since he nodded once and stood straighter. He was back to looking like the turian who'd made sure the entire Hierarchy was listening and ready.  
  


"One last question," Garrus said, "She mentioned you got hold of Miranda?"  
  


"Ah, that…" Kolyat turned his glass in his hands, watching the liquid with undue fascination. "That was...luck again. My father left me with some contact information—" He'd had to crack it open, something that had taken a long bit of effort, but he'd had the time while waiting for rescue and in the days afterward. "—I...just sent messages to all of them, hoping to get word to someone. Eventually, I got a response. It was from Oriana, and she said she'd let her sister know."  
  


The stark relief had hit him in a thousand ways, then, that someone anyone might be able to help. He wheezed out a dry laugh, finding amusement in it in retrospect. The day the two had showed up at the destroyed hospital where Shepard remained in intensive care Oriana had shook his hand frankly and said, ' _It's a good thing I was still tracing all of my sister's accounts'_ , and Miranda had rolled her eyes and strode off into the nearby room.  
  


"You know," Kolyat said dryly, "even as heavily sedated as they were keeping her, the Commander was already making noise about you and her crew."  
  


Garrus snorted faintly, though his mandibles quirked in a fond and amused way. "Of course she was…"  
  


"After that, I started getting responses from...other people. The Justicar, the krogan, Zaeed, Ms. Goto, they all came and went." It had been strange seeing them again, bruised and battered and tired but exultant in the wake of a horrible victory. Kolyat cleared his throat, and bit his tongue on saying he hadn't done all that much again.  
  


Garrus took a half step from the bar before turning back suddenly. "Thank you," he said, "for telling me. Aaaand, for, you know, looking out for Shepard when I couldn't. I appreciate it."  
  


Kolyat hummed, watching Garrus grab his drink and move to down the rest. "Just remember to invite me to the wedding," he said. Turians couldn't quite spit their drinks out in surprise, but Garrus' still found it's way out of his mouth. It was more of an undignified dribble than anything.  
  


Choking, Garrus gave him a beady stare out of one eye. "We're not—we haven't even—"  
  


Kolyat laughed, felt it bubble up within him and overflow until he couldn't hold it back. The solemn atmosphere was gone, replaced by the warm comfort of having good friends. Once, they'd been his father's friends, and now they were _his_ too.  
  


It was a good feeling to know there was a place in the universe for him with other people who remembered the same things he did in their own odd ways.  
  


Sliding off his barstool, Kolyat picked his glass up and held it up to Garrus in a brief salute. He could barely remember laughing like that for a long time. Not since his mother had died, and he'd found out about what his father truly did.  
  


"Keep it in mind," he said, bowing his head toward Garrus. He turned and made his way toward the door and the quiet sanctuary of the _Normandy's_ Life Support.  
  


He would hold onto this memory; one of laughter after so long without, and words that needed to be shared.  
  


Just like the rest of the galaxy he would continue to pick up the pieces of his life and see where it took him, one day at a time. Best of all, he wouldn't be doing it alone.

  
That, in the end, was worth more than he could put into words.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha whoops, I meant to post this waaaay sooner. But life got in my way, as it does! Thank you all for reading this little piece, and for your comments. <3
> 
> I feel like it might be interesting to write about Shepard in the hospital getting visited by all of the crew who weren't on the Normandy sometime, so I might add that to my list of To-Do's for this little universe.
> 
> Anyway, the next fic I'm planning on for Built to Last is a Javik/Liara piece, set after Hell and High Water. I've got the first chapter mostly done, and a solid plan for it so let's hope I can get it done soon! I might also do some drabbles sometime.
> 
> See you in the next fic!


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